Citadel of Dreams
by ShadowSong StarGlaive The Wolf
Summary: The Citadel of Dreams, where the impossible happen, the dead come back to life... what happens while Martin the Warrior is in the Citadel? Grath dream added, minor MR and GrathxInbar
1. Sworddream

A/N Hello and welcome! Yes, I am writing a Redwall fic after so long? Did you miss me?

:crickets:

Wonderful. Let's get on with the story!

In Taggerung, page 82 or something near it, they mentioned the 'citadel of dreams'. What lies in Martin's dreams? Dare you open the gates to Dreamland?

Let us commence!

Disclaimer::is backed in corner by lawyers bearing pens and contracts: NOOOO! I'm not Brian Jacques! I admit it! It hurts, but I must!

(Begin Citadel of Dreams)

A light breeze raced through the trees, and the mouse standing beneath them could almost see the moonlight smiling down upon him. Was night going to cast her magic upon him tonight? Would he dream?

The grass below him called, and as the weary warrior sunk down into the wavy emerald blades. Ah, Redwall. What a beautiful place.

But he was sure the Citadel of Dreams would be better tonight.

Closing his battle-hardened eyes, he slipped into a world where the impossible happens every night, and enemies and beloveds come back to life…

The Citadel of Dreams.

It was a remarkable dream tonight- but what was to happen, mused Martin. What dream is this, what would it be of?

The answer came almost instantly.

A huge, lithe form slammed into him, and Martin rolled over, clawing at the air, sword not in the Citadel.

Fangs bared in his face, and hot, reeking breath brushed his face. "Tsarmina!" growled Martin, on his back, the strong wildcat, back in full strength, clawing at him.

"Mouse!" she crowed. "How I will defeat you-"

Something stirred- and a heavy weight fell by his side. Grasping around, Martin clasped the hilt and-

Tsarmina disappeared, leaving only the reeling stars above Martin to stab at.

Something else sounded behind Martin. Whipping around, blade at ready, he leapt out of the grass-

It had changed to sand- what was this?

"Martin!" roared a huge badger, silvery-white with age. Shining armor coated his frame, and only his head, paws, and footpaws showed. A huge broadsword was clasped in his paws. "Martin!"

"Boar!" said Martin, stunned. Hot sand burned under his paws, and the stars were instantly replaced with the sun ablaze. He looked around, and the scene changed again. Why did these memories from the past flicker and fade so quickly? Normally-

Martin laughed to himself. Normal did not exist in dreams, and the unusual reigned.

The sand shifted- it became a boat, rocking and swaying with the salty breezes the blew past him. Metal clinked- manacles shook-

Manacles?

Martin looked down at his attire, and noticed that he was garbed in tattered searat rags, and long necklaces and gaudy bracelets. No! He was no searat- what dream was this? He had become his enemy? Furious, he began ripping the rags off-

And a long, black whip snaked down onto him and curled about his paws.

"Die, vermin!" crowed a strong, female voice. Martin looked up in horror- and saw a burly, ebon squirrel wielding a whip advancing on him.

But suddenly, she stopped, a confused expression plastered on her face. "Luke?" she gasped, and faded, blackness evaporating like an evanescent murmur.

"Ranguvar?" whispered Martin. The tale he had heard of this squirrel were as honor-filled as his father's were. He instantly recognized the squirrel, though he had never set his eyes on her.

The ship pitched towards two huge pinnacles of rock, and Martin threw up his paws to his face, fearing for the worst-

And was met by laughter, calls, and the cries of happy beasts. Raising his head, he saw that the ship had left, and he was in a long dining hall, with a natural ceiling that was never carved…

Brockhall!

A paw, light and small, tapped his shoulder. "Matey, are you eating that blackberry crumble on your plate? 'Cause it won't be there in a minute!"

"Gnoff!" exclaimed the mouse warrior. "What-" He had only seen dead beasts so far- did this mean that…

The thief smiled, and like Ranguvar, vanished, his air of humor still lingering like memory.

For it was a memory.

Martin twisted around in his wooden chair, desperately trying to see something else, other beasts who had been talking, but no body was there. It was simply noise, a long table, and empty chairs.

Pondering this, Martin stood up, chair moving smoothly away from him. No noise was made from the hickory woodwork, and Martin only knew that the dream commanded the noise.

"Hello?" called Martin, voice ringing in the noisy but empty hall. "Anybeast?"

"Now, Martin… you must have some of this honeyed cider… Goody says it's one of her best barrels!"

"Try some of these candied chestnuts… good thing Chibb isn't here, eh, Martin?"

"Martin!"

"Martin!"

"Martin!"

The mouse warrior swerved around with every noise but met nothing. Suddenly, he felt a feather-light touch on his back.

"Why are you still here?" asked a sweet voice. "My son…"

Martin jolted, and turned around quickly. "Sayna?" whispered Martin, but no one was there. "Mother…"

Brockhall vanished- it was replaced by a forest, with birds warbling and chatting creatures.

Creatures that he could see!

Martin stepped back to get a better view. Otters, squirrels, moles, and mice, so many mice!

"Martin, come… you said you would help us with the sycamore!"

Martin twisted around, and saw a motherly mouse standing there. "Arrah?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe it. If she was here, then so must…

Another mouse, authority hanging about him like a warm air, stepped out from behind the female mouse. "Martin?"

"Sir…" said Martin, looking at the husband of Arrah. "Where is…"

"Right here, my love."

Martin almost cried out in shock, and whipped around…

And for a sweet, minor second, a beautiful mousemaid stood there, a rose in full bloom clasped in her paws. With a wave, and a sad smile, Rose gave an air kiss to Martin, and faded.

"Rose! No!" cried Martin, and jumped for her fading figure-

And hit soft, grassy ground.

Opening his eyes, Martin looked up- and saw stars.

Still stars.

Pounding the earth in frustration, Martin felt like crying. Not for the first time had Rose appeared in his dreams, but he could have touched her in that dream! He had felt paws of other creatures, but why not Rose?

Struggling up from the grass, miserable about leaving the Citadel of Dreams, something sharp poked his paw…

Thinking it was some rock, Martin looked down, and gasped.

It was a rose in full bloom clasped in his paws.

(End Citadel of Dreams)

A/N Awwww…. A little gift from Rosie there in the end.

I KNOW I spelt some names wrong, but please forgive me! (And don't just leave a review with their correct spellings… I hate that. Spellings and WORDS OTHER THAN THAT would be nice.)

Maybe I will do some other warriors, maybe not. I had Grath, Ranguvar, Matthias, and possibly Bragoon or Sarobando. Reviews encourage me!

So please read and review!


	2. Dreams of Pearls

A/N Wow! I got a lot more reviews than expected! Well, as requested by narfgirl, I shall do a dream of Grath, set on the island of Ruddaring (end of book, if you didn't know).

SPOILERS FOR PEARLS OF LUTRA!

I hope you don't flame me for not warning you, so there it was! And there it goes…

Disclaimer::packing suitcase: The lawyers found me. I knew I shouldn't of forged the signature!

Conscience: Well, if you were a GOOD girl, then you would not of gotten caught.

Me: You persuaded me!

Conscience: Whatever.

(Begin Dreams of Pearls)

The soft, murmuring of waves lapping on shore, mixed with the squawk of indignant seagulls fighting over a bit of leftover food. The moonlight sparkled over the depths of the wide abyss of the ocean, filled with water, fish, and sailors seeking adventure.

Grath Longfletch twisted in her interrupted sleep, staring up at the winking stars above her. A huge, half-crescent moon was a lamp among the thousands of fireflies that danced in the stretch of solid water called sky. Blinking, Grath wriggled deeper into the grass, wishing for sleep.

A creature with both of her paws set firmly in the ground, she was not often greeted by dreams, but occasionally she had a long, deep one, and for some reason, she knew tonight would be different. She would dream.

Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep.

A drowsy, light music floated over her, and the murmur of the waves and the shrieks of seagulls faded, replaced by different noises.

Grath opened her eyes, and was greeted by a strange sight indeed.

It was a beach, with wide, spreading shores and endless sand dunes. The silhouettes of shrews doing back flips and speaking were framed by dancing, flickering flames.

Some music, flute and tambourine combined, wove itself around Grath, and she attempted to squint and see what was going on.

But suddenly, she realized- she had no eyes. Or a mouth, paws, or tail. Furiously wriggling, she came to a conclusion that she was something inanimate in this dream.

But a second later, she heard a voice she knew well.

Very well.

"I can shoot a star- watch me!" Brown, strong paws scooped up Grath and notched her onto a bow, a well-waxed string holding her in place.

The wiry string pulled back, and loosed. Grath shot passed onlookers, looking down. The stunned expressions on their faces, and the gasps told her that they thought she was about to hit a star.

Arcing higher, Grath expected to fall- she remembered this event well- but instead, she did not. The stars above her were whirling about, each crying out her name,

"Grath!"

"Grath!"

Soaring higher, higher, Grath spotted a star, and, as if guided by her mind, raced forward and hit the star.

A sensation- not quite pain, not bliss, somewhere in the middle- whipped her about and she fell with a thump into something hard and wooden. A splinter lodged itself in her paw, and she yelped out in pain-

She had paws?

Rolling over, Grath checked herself- paws, ears, muzzle, and that rudder that marked her species. I know what I am now, she thought gratefully. Now where am I?

Looking up from her paws, she saw it instantly- the palace of Ublaz. She was on the docks for the plunderers ships, where loot- like the Tears of all Oceans, if it had been held on to- would have been unloaded.

She was at the heart of where her past problems lived.

Hate boiled up inside of her, and she felt as if the tide itself was rolling and burning-

Wait- it was.

Grath, propelled by the waves, flipped over and rolled, until she, somehow, went past the door and into a giant hall.

This wasn't in the palace- this was a homely place, with dusty rose red walls and a long, oaken table. The hall was filled with creatures, from mice to moles to otters to shrews to squirrels, all eating and helping themselves to a wide variety of food. She had never been here- but instantly she knew that she was at the Great Hall in Redwall, a wondrous place which Viola the vole maid had described in detail.

About to ask what happened to the palace, a creature came up from behind her and said, "Grath, do you know where that apple custard went? I know that either a Dibbun got it or it's somewhere down here- everywhere else hasn't had it."

Tilting her head up, Grath instantly recognized the mouse- Martin, the Redwall warrior that had defeated Ublaz at Sampetra. "Martin!"

Martin smiled at her, but then, something incredibly strange happened. His fur, normally a light, tannish brown, began fading to pink, and he began to change shape- smaller, rounder.

Grath watching in horror as her friend shifted from mouse to pearl. The pearl glimmered mockingly at her, and she leapt for it, about to demand that Martin come back-

But her world altered, and so did her senses- hearing and sight were suddenly lost, and she was blind and deaf, in a world that she could only feel, smell, and taste.

Grath swung about, and, blinking, she saw a light, and heard the light smash of waves on shore of some beach.

Good, I'm not blind or deaf, she thought to herself, but her fury at Martin changing into a pearl still poked her, mockingly. Would those Tears of all Oceans linger with her for life?

The crash grew louder, and she floated towards the light.

Blinking, she saw more blue-green waves, and her curiosity was aroused. Swimming towards them, she saw a canoe-like boat drifting about in the waves. After many powerful strokes, Grath hauled herself into the rickety craft- and saw three figures there that were not in the boat before.

One was a hare, grinning and talking animatedly to a young vole maid, who couldn't help but smile back and gesture with her paw. On the boat bottom between them, a pile of apples, some flasks of liquid, and a melon sat there, swishing with the waves. The third beast…

Blinking with surprise, Grath saw Log-a-log, the one that had repaired her boat more than once. Holding out a paw, she said, "Log-a-log! I-"

Waving his paw, he smiled- and suddenly, his spiky fur smoothed out, and his paws curled, and he began to shift, his brown fur changing to a light pink-

"No!" cried Grath and lunged at him, but when she threw herself, nothing but a pearl lie there, with two other pearls, same shape and size next to it.

Grath threw back her head and wailed, but when she was about to throw the pearls out to sea, she opened her eyes- and the boat was gone.

She whipped around, and saw familiar caves, with otters sitting there, roasting fish over fires and laughing at the kits who stole food and attempted to hide it. Elderly and young danced about the fire, while the middle-aged argued and spoke, each with merriment gracing their voices.

"Holt Lutra!" gasped Grath, and she ran towards them. "Mother! Father! I-" her voice cracked as she saw two older-looking otters speaking. "I missed you, what-"

Both otters turned to face her- and began to change shape, smoothing out, rudders fading, paws vanishing into pink depths-

"Noooooo!"

Grath woke, lashing out, paws hitting grass. "Why? Curse those pearls!"

"Grath!" spoke a worried voice. "Grath-"

"Inbar?" breathed the frightened female otter.

The male otter settled down beside her, a cup carved out of wood in his paws. "You seemed to be having a bad dream. This will help."

Taking the cup, she sat still, not drinking it. "I still dream of them."

Inbar leaned down and hugged her. "I know you do- but they will like it that you still love and remember them."

Grath took a deep drink of the liquid. "This is excellent melon juice, Inbar. It's nice… that you thought of me."

Inbar smiled, and gave her another hug. "Don't worry- better dreams will come. Until them, you have me to talk to."

The pair of otters looked out at the sky, watching the still stars flash and twinkle. Grath looked out at her new family- and was relieved that none of them were pink pearls.

(End Dreams of Pearls)

A/N :sniff: Awww… fluff. Muha!

I haven't read Pearls of Lutra in a while, so I missed out on some friends- but at least I have this!

Reviews and constructive criticism welcome!


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